


Underground

by thevaliantdust



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevaliantdust/pseuds/thevaliantdust





	Underground

He’s sitting in the cellar, spinning a dagger on one finger, catching it and turning in one fluid motion every time he hears so much as a breath. Which is unfortunate because his companion breathes loudly. Holding in a sigh of frustration, he quietly makes his way upstairs, moving aside the makeshift window covering to give him a view of the tree. It has been hours. Which, in all fairness, she did explain, but he’s never known 8 hours to pass so slowly. He can’t see much difference in the tree yet, but maybe it’s because he’s looked out this window every 5 minutes since she went underground and he’s grown accustomed to the slowly revitalised tree. Or it’s not working. He’s not sure.

What he is sure about is that he hates waiting around. Hates that she’s out in the open, in a manner of speaking, while he sits safely in a cellar. Sure he’s guarding the home front, seemed like a good idea at the time, but now all he can imagine is her sitting, eyes closed, unknowing, exposed to anyone who would hurt her. And above her, swinging lightly in the breeze, the gruesome evidence that someone indeed does want to hurt her.

Shit. They shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be here. But then of course they should, Percy is family, just like they are family, and family look out for one another. And besides, technically it’s his fault all of this trouble in Emon started with the Briarwoods. If he could have just waited, been less reckless- No. He stopped those thoughts before they could take over. He’d made his apologies and he was making amends right now. His guilt would help no one but the enemy.

The wind catches the paint-splattered hair of the figure in the tree and his heart drops. It’s not even the right shade of red- he doubts anyone could quite capture the exact shade- but it’s close enough to make him want to charge out there and cut them down, every single one, so that there is no reminder, so that no one else has to feel what he’s feeling right now. He’s not sure if it is out of respect for the innocents that died for this horrible display, or to fuel his own anger and desire for justice but he takes a moment to run his eyes over each broken body. His throat tightens the longer he stares and eventually he has to tear himself away from the window.

Breathing deeply, he walks with purpose towards the cellar. Nevermind the fact that she’s down a tiny tunnel, buried under the earth, weight of the world pressing down on her. Nevermind that they’re guarding her tunnel, nevermind that there are no visible threats on the surface. He turns to his companion, **can you hold down the fort?** A confused look. **Of course, where are you-**

**I’m going to check on Keyleth.**

A nod of understanding, and then he’s at the tunnel entrance and he’s taking another deep breath, preparing himself. It’s cramped and dirty and cold, but there is more air than he expected and it doesn’t take him long to find her, once he learns to navigate around the sprawling roots of the tree.

She’s beautiful. Sitting peacefully, cross-legged, hand reaching up past the roots of the enormous tree. Her eyes closed, breath slow and even, long hair tumbling down her shoulders. A brief pang in his chest as the woman hanging above them flashes in his mind but he chases the vision away. He wants to brush the trickle of dirt from her shoulder but he’s scared to interrupt her trance. Instead he sits beside her, a shield between her and the rest of the world, and watches the slow rise and fall of her chest. Its steady rhythm soothes fears he’d never admit to, and after a time his breath falls in step with hers. He feels a touch on his shoulder and whips his head around in panic- he’s supposed to be guarding her, protecting her, and he can’t even tell when someone-

The tension in his muscles dissipates suddenly as he realises what the touch was. A small tree root, previously dry and lifeless is now moving- growing- over his shoulder. In fact, he’d almost say it was stroking his shoulder. He laughs as he realises, turning back to her with a grin. She knows he’s there. He settles back against the soil, a small smile still playing across his lips.

Time still passes as time will pass, and it’s a few hours later when he feels movement at his side. Turning his head he sees a slowly waking Keyleth stretching out her cramped limbs. She turns to him, exhausted, and smiles. He wants to say, you’re beautiful. Instead he says, **is it done?** Amused, she reaches out a hand and a small newly-formed tree root wraps itself around her finger.

He can’t hold back the wide smile growing on his face. **Kiki, you’re brilliant** , he tells her, and before he can think it through he pulls her close and kisses the top of her head. Just as quickly he realises she might not want to be touched after such a long, arduous spell, she might need some space. But she settles her head against his chest, shuffles into his lap, twines her arms around his neck. He tightens his arms around her, reveling in the trust she places in him.

**I could feel them** , she tells him, **the people in the tree. I could feel them the whole time.**

He swallows his horror, his personal fears. His fingers, previously tracing lazy patterns along her skin, stop. **Are you alright?**

She seems to think for a moment. **I will be** , and nuzzles closer into his chest. He pulls her tighter against him until he can feel her heartbeat against his, a much needed reminder that, for now at least, they’re both alive.


End file.
